The Solemn Vow

by Bree Dahlia

  “The room that used to be mine isn’t too bad. I can throw down an air mattress.”

  I shrug. “Whatever you want, Cain.” As long as it’s not with me, I really don’t care where he sleeps.

  We get inside and I turn for the stairs. “Can I make you anything for lunch?” I shake my head. “Any certain flavor for dinner?”

  I look back, wishing he hadn’t taken the day off. “Don’t worry about me. I have some work to do, so I’m heading up early.”

  “Oh. Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, then.”

  It feels slackerish to be turning in at three in the afternoon, especially when I have no intentions to be productive, but it’s freeing to have my own space to retreat to. A sanctuary within a prison sanitarium.

  I enter my old room, locking the door behind me. I go toward the bed and am assaulted by the cheery grins of yellow daisies. The flowers congregate in a crystal vase on my nightstand. Their brightness reminds me of what’s missing, reminds me of the bench, so I move them into the connected bathroom where they won’t mock me all night.

  There’s only one thing I want beside me, and it’s not flowers.

  I hate Jake for wrecking me, and I hate that I still love him. I hate Cain for overcompensating, and I hate myself for allowing it. I especially hate my father for making me feel like I’d rather destroy my own sanity than become like him.

  But most of all, I hate how fucked up my life has become.

  I wake to a sense of peace. Considering my mindset when I fell asleep last night, it’s a sweet surprise.

  I wonder if I’m being too hard on Jake. It’s all so convoluted. Who exactly is cheating on whom? I never gave him definitive confirmation that I was willing to leave Cain until this past weekend. Sleeping together or not, he was free to do as he chose. We never discussed it.

  I hop out of bed and hit the bathroom to take a shower. When I step out, I’m stared down by a dozen eyes. I ignore them until I no longer can, grabbing the flowers on the way out and bringing them downstairs with me. It’s not their fault they were adopted into this dysfunctional mess.

  All’s good until I enter the kitchen. Then I get pissed off. On the table is yet another vase, this one filled with bright blues and pinks and purples. Oh, but when I tried to pretty up the place, I got shit for it.

  Whatever. I plop down on the chair. Today I am getting those final sketches to Sharon. No excuses. I have the house to myself and a full day to work.

  The loud ring disturbs my resolve. I check my screen and sigh. I went from calmness to annoyance in the span of an hour. I should’ve just stayed in bed.

  “Hello.”

  “Good morning, baby—sorry. Maddie.”

  “Morning.”

  “I’ll be stopping at the store on the way home. Want anything special for dinner? I’m cooking.”

  “You just went to the store yesterday.” How many more bouquets can he stash around the house?

  “Yes, but there might be something else you want.”

  “Anything’s fine, Cain.”

  “So that means you’ll still be there when I get home?”

  I drop my head, rubbing the back of my neck. He’s worried I could up and leave again at any moment. Dr. Swanson—Andrea—said in addition to anger, fear of abandonment was another symptom. “I’ll be here. I meant it when I said I’d see you through your appointments.”

  “Thank you. After everything, I’m truly grateful.”

  We disconnect, and a dark cloud descends, casting a depressing glow over everything. I swear even the flowers wilt a little.

  “There might be something else you want.” Of course, there is, and Cain won’t be able to bring it home from the fucking store. I could break my obligations and end this right now. I’m not up for the martyr-of-the-year award. I scream as loud as my lungs can tolerate, then pace around and fight back tears. My moods flip from “I want to die” to “I want everyone else to die” consistently every thirty seconds for the next hour.

  I go to the love seat, and that’s where my ass roots until the front door opens. Wow, really? Is it that time already? Another lost day.

  “Maddie?”

  “In here.”

  Cain comes in clutching a paper bag in one hand and holding a pie in the other. It looks like chocolate peanut butter. I wipe my mouth. I think I just drooled on myself.

  “Is that my dinner?”

  He laughs. “If you want it to be.”

  I do. I want to grab it and run to my room and scarf down the entire thing. Especially because my insides feel so hollow and I’m desperate to fill them. But I stay downstairs with Cain instead.

  I follow him into the kitchen, waiting for him to ask what I did all day. I even have an answer ready: A big ole fat nothing.

  He unloads groceries while I sit back and watch. “Were you able to get a lot accomplished on your book?”

  Close enough. “Nope. My day was pretty useless. Couldn’t find the inspiration.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’ll come back. You’re too talented for it to stay away long.”

  Go figure. When I’m working my ass off, he calls me lazy. When I really am lazy, he’s supportive.

  “You were right,” he says. “About the guest room. I think ceiling plaster kept landing on me all night, waking me up. Or beetles are getting in and dive-bombing me. Either way, I’m probably better off on the couch.”

  “Okay.” Because what else am I supposed to say?

  He makes dinner, interrupting the silence I’m craving with trivial small talk. He’s making an effort, so I do my best to respond, but I’m thankful when he’s finished. My stomach agrees, not having had anything inside it all day. Cain sets an Italian dish in front of me, and I dig right in, excited to try it. I’ll say one thing—he knows his way around a kitchen.

  I almost spit it back on my plate. It tastes putrid. I hide it well, knowing it’s me, figuring all I must want is something sweet. But when I scoop up a huge forkful of my favorite dessert and stuff it in my mouth, that assumption dies a swift death. Unlike my dinner, I do spit it back out.

  Then I excuse myself to my room. For the first time in my life, I have a craving for tofu.

  I lie in bed and scroll through his texts. One, in particular, captures my attention, and I keep going back to it over and over.

  I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you or cause you pain. I’ll always care.

  It was sent to me on a Friday night.

  Twenty-three

  Seven years earlier

  It’s official.

  I’m declaring this day the beginning of our fairy tale. The end of high school for me means the start of a serious future for us. I don’t even care what day of the week it is. The sun is shining too hard for anything to bring me down.

  I go up to his door, planning to steal an hour before sacred family time. First, there’s graduation on Sunday, and then we’ll start looking for a place together. After that, it’s only a matter of time before marriage, children, our own family time with our own traditions. I can endure anything until then.

  Even Mrs. Adams.

  “Madison.” She acknowledges me as if her tongue’s made of ice. “I’m sorry, but Jacob is too busy to come out.”

  I’m not sure if I should laugh or be insulted. I’m not some friend asking if her son can play. I’m his future wife!

  I open my mouth just as Jake slips past her. “Mom, I need to talk to Maddie.”

  “Be quick.” She gives me a look and shakes her head, muttering something as she turns away. I don’t know what she said, but it was nasty. I’m sure of it.

  Jake steps outside, closing the door behind him. I watch through the big bay window as she moves through the front room and reaches for the cup on the shelf, earlier than usual.

  “What did she call me? It sounded like shit-something.” She sets the sparkly thing on the table. Is it sacrilegious to think about what I want to do to her with it?

&
nbsp; “Don’t worry about that.” He takes my hands. “We need to talk. It’s important.”

  “What ab—” A person comes into view. But not just a person. A girl. The girl. Reyna. Her back is toward me, but I’d never forget that hair or that figure. “Uh, Jake… what is she doing here?” Again. For family time. But guess what? She’s not freaking family.

  “Maddie.” He tilts my chin to face him. His eyes look like they’re being dowsed in cayenne, but I can’t understand why he’s having this reaction. This is a happy day. “God, I love you more than life itself. You have no idea how hard this is for me.”

  My skin feels like it sprouted talons. I don’t like this. Not at all. “You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

  The front door opens, making me flinch. “I’ve allowed this to go on long enough, Jacob. It’s time to come in. You’re being rude to our guests.”

  “Mom, please.”

  He pulls me farther away from the door. “How does she think this is long enough? I just got here.” My throat is filling with crud, and the only way to stop it from choking me is for both of us to run away. Now.

  “She’s not talking about today. She’s talking about… us.”

  “Us? What do you mean ‘us’?”

  He drops his forehead to mine, and all I sense is pain, both of ours. It swirls around us like a negative vortex. But the difference is that he knows the reason, and I don’t.

  “Can you give me the chance to explain tomorrow morning? Everything, I promise. God, this is killing me. I love you too much to hurt you any more than necessary. To not give you all the time you deserve.”

  He lifts his head, a tear slipping from his eye, and I am so confused. So. Damn. Confused. He’s acting like there’s a problem with our future. But that’s impossible. We have it all mapped out.

  I glance at the monster standing in the doorframe with her arms crossed, to the girl inside the window laughing about something. Her joy is sickening. “No. If anything’s wrong with us, I need to know now. Don’t you at least owe me that?”

  He leads me even farther away, to the sidewalk. Whatever’s going on is bad. Horrible. Life-changing. The vibe is sharp enough to slice me open. But I haven’t lost all hope yet. I silently beg him to correct me. To flash his dimple and tell me I’m being ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong, and there never will be. We’ll spend the rest of our days joking about how serious we’re taking this moment.

  “We can’t see each other anymore.”

  The world goes silent. I swore I just heard those cardinals chirping a second ago. “I’m sorry. Can you please repeat that?”

  He holds me so tight against him, squeezing out my breath until the sounds return, starting with his mother’s screeching disapproval. He whispers a rapid succession of “sorries,” then loosens his arms. I almost crumble to the ground.

  “You’re… breaking up with me?” To speak it out loud is ludicrous. We’re getting married, for God’s sake. He keeps apologizing, and I keep shattering. Dying a little more. Every time his mouth opens, it feels like venom spews out. I’m dissolving in it.

  “My mom… her health isn’t doing so well. She wants to see me married.”

  “But we will….” I push him away. “Wait, what are you trying to say? This has to do with Reyna, doesn’t it?”

  He takes a step toward me, but I keep him at arm’s length. I have no idea how I’m not sprawled flat on the cement, because now I’m hopeless.

  My world is razed to the ground, and he’s not responding. I asked about her after the first time I saw her. She’s the daughter of his parents’ closest friends, he said. Her name’s Reyna and they attended Hebrew school together when they were younger, he said. I’ll always be the love of his life, he said.

  “Answer me!”

  His head falls as if someone chopped him in the back of the neck. “My mom believes Reyna and I… are destined for each other.”

  “So? So!” I yell. I don’t care who hears me. They can’t be destined for each other because we are. “And how do you know your mom’s not faking it to get what she wants? She never liked me. She might not even be sick at all. She might be using your God as a reason to make you stop loving me and—” My hiccupping sobs smother out the rest.

  “Our Gods are the same, Maddie, and nothing will ever make me stop loving you.” He reaches for me, but I can’t handle him touching me. I want it too desperately. “My heart will always belong to you.”

  “Is that supposed to be a consolation prize?” I wipe my face, but my hands aren’t absorbent enough. Everything just smears into a runny, repulsive mess.

  “Maddie, I’m so sorry. I love you. This isn’t what I wanted.”

  “Then why are you doing it to me? Why? Why are you letting her rip us apart?” I feel like I’m bordering on hysteria. I see his father pull his mother back inside. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing is going to change. She’ll still control Jake no matter where she is.

  My brain rewinds through these last couple months. Ever since I first saw her. There was a little more distance, but it was subtle and we both had finals. There were some strange texts, but we were both stressed and tired. I thought nothing of it. He was his normal, loving self. I just had less of it. I didn’t want to admit there was anything amiss.

  But now I see it for what it was. The beginning of our ending.

  “Don’t you see? I never wanted to do anything to you except love you. I fought against hurting you, hurting us, for so long.”

  “Long or short, what does it matter when the ending remains the same?”

  I have to leave. I have to get far, far away before I shatter in front of him like every one of the promises he made to me.

  “Please, can I talk to you tomorrow? Can I have another chance to explain?”

  “No. There’ll never be another chance. For anything.”

  I don’t care that he looks like he’s suffering just as much as me because he’s not. He can never feel the agony I’m feeling. He broke me so hard, the pieces aren’t even recognizable. I turn and run while I still can.

  I’m broken, and nothing can ever fix me again.

  Twenty-four

  I wake in a heavy mood. Despondent inside with the sensation of a crushing weight outside. It covers my chest, my throat, my face. Considering my mindset last night, this time it is not a surprise, nor is it welcome.

  I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you or cause you pain. I’ll always care.

  The timestamp reveals the truth: three weeks ago. The last time he fucked his soon-to-be ex-wife. I don’t believe I was the intended receiver of the text. I wasn’t the one meant for his reconciliatory words. It was an error on his part, and it wouldn’t be the first one.

  Does it change anything? I’m in no state to decide.

  The stench of cloyingly sweet ground earth fills my head, along with the piercing shards of dismantled plans. Nothing is as it’s supposed to be. Nothing is as I want it to be. Is Jake also pining away thinking of me? If I texted him every time he invaded my thoughts, my fingers would be raw and bloody.

  I drag myself from bed to shower. It doesn’t work. I can’t feel clean enough. The mounds of dirt coat me faster than I can rinse off.

  I step out to a ringing phone. It’s my art director. I ignore it and go back to bed.

  The day turns into night. The night turns into day. Cain thinks I’m sick, and I suppose I am. He’s the doting husband, giving me the nourishment I refuse. He’s enabling me by caring. He’s allowing me to stay in a prone position, mourning another man.

  I beg him to return to work. He doesn’t oblige until I do something drastic. I get up.

  When I have the house to myself again, I can take in air. Stifling and polluted, but still air. I drink my coffee and watch out the window as the predators pick off their prey in our sterile cornfield. I listen for the rolling inside the walls that no longer comes.

  An hour later, I play Sharon’s message. My numb brain doesn’t process
it. I amble around the house until I force myself to try again. Then again and again. Several repeats later, I finally accept it.

  It shouldn’t come as a shock. Not in the least. I could’ve written it into my calendar and set my watch by it. The fact that I’m shaken up only proves with clarity comes madness. I was better off in the dark.

  My phone rings. I’m starting to despise the thing.

  “Hello.” I answer Cain’s call because I need to start doing something, and talking is more productive than wallowing.

  “I have a surprise for you tonight.”

  “I hate surprises.”

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” He’s been calling me “baby” more and more lately without correcting himself. It’s stupid to waste energy on petty shit, so I let it go.

  “I lost the contract.”

  Saying it out loud seals the deal. As if it weren’t already final days ago and forming in the ether weeks before that. I wait for him to comment. This is it. I don’t have a peanut-paying job—I have no job. This will be the thing to set him off and make him bitch and call me a spoiled brat, letting me walk away free and clear. I just haven’t decided where I’m walking to.

  “Then you really need this surprise tonight.”

  Wait, what? “But Cain, it was my fault. If I would’ve completed all my work on time, this wouldn’t have happened. I had more than enough chances, and I blew them all.”

  “Maddie, I’m so sorry. I know how much this meant to you, but I truly believe something even better will come along.”

  Who the fuck is this man?

  Oh yeah, he’s the one I married.

  “Please say yes,” he says. “I think it’ll be good for you to get out. It’ll make all the difference. You need this.”

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  He’s fucking with my mind, going out of his way to be the husband he used to be. It’s everything I needed from him before, not now. I never stopped loving Cain. I can’t stop loving Jake. No wonder my mind is twisted to splinters.

  Despite it all, I do find merit in getting out of the house. It’ll be an improvement over steeping in a melancholic stew all day. Cain’s right. I need this.